A Tour of Lesser-Known Restaurants
by Serinity46
Summary: Emma and Regina aren't dating, really. Except they totally are. Set post-S3 finale.


To the average observer, it might look like they were dating. Sometimes, Emma had to admit, it even _felt_ like they were dating. Because, when one repeatedly dines out (or, sometimes, in) with the same exact person, those two people probably _are_ dating.

Except they weren't.

What they were doing, ever since Regina decided that the whole time travel fiasco wasn't worth becoming enemies again, and since Emma was still pretty much in "do everything I possibly can to make it up to her" mode, was taking a tour of some of Storybrooke's lesser-known restaurants and other haunts – in an attempt to escape whatever either of them felt like escaping.

Which had been going well enough up until _this_ place. Really, the fact that it was peak dinner hours and there was only one other couple in the entire taverna should have tipped them off. Emma sighed – poking her fork at the pile of roast meat that called itself lamb, but was definitely _not_ lamb. It might have been Ogre, possibly. Or maybe dragon…

"What are we doing?" Emma finally asked, looking up from the barely-touched plate of food and over to Regina.

"Having dinner in some place that I clearly designed as a torture device?" Regina replied, spearing an incredibly overcooked slice of carrot and seeming to contemplate whether or not it was worth trying to eat it.

"I _mean_, we're two of the most powerful people in Storybrooke – even without magic. And especially with," Emma clarified. At least the wine wasn't bad. It was hard to do bad wine. If it did its job, that was all that mattered. And, since she'd been drinking more than eating, she could definitely feel it kicking in. "If the mayor and the sheriff want to eat somewhere that won't give us food poisoning, we should be able to."

"We could try that Indian place, again. It wasn't the worst…" Regina suggested, deliberately avoiding the issue that Emma was trying to get at. She didn't want to eat at Granny's because Robin and Marian had taken to eating there. Even though, honestly, Regina had been in the town first – Regina had _created_ the whole damn town, twice – and should be free to eat wherever she feels like, without having to awkwardly sit two booths away from her so-called 'True Love' who's busy doing 'True Love' stuff with another woman.

"Three years ago, you would have just _demanded _that we have the place to ourselves. Well, you probably wouldn't have been eating with me at all," Emma added, taking another sip of her wine. Really, when had they gone from actively trying to make each other miserable to, well, _not_? Three years ago, if Emma had done what she'd done last month, Regina would have tried to curse her into tiny pieces. Probably succeeded, too. By the looks Regina had given her back in the diner, that night, Emma could tell she'd wanted to. But she just… hadn't.

They'd come too far to start back at the beginning, again. That's not to say they hadn't _fought_, as Emma tried to desperately explain and apologize. For a few days, Regina wouldn't even speak to her – which hurt worse than the fighting. But they'd gotten over it much sooner than they would have, in the past.

"I guess I've changed," Regina said, giving the remaining pool of wine in her glass an absent sort of swish, before draining it. The sentiment sounded a bit half-hearted. It was _true _– but there was something else to this thing, too.

"Well, yeah. But it's not like you to take the back seat," Emma continued. "You don't just give up and hide."

Maybe, she shouldn't press the issue. And, maybe, they should just go and get a few boxes of the okay-ish Indian food and head back to Regina's or her's. Or wherever. They'd had fish and chips on a bench at the wharf, one night. That had been nice.

"It's… complicated," Regina admitted. "Part of me wants to set her on fire – but, part of me also wants him to get back what he lost. What I, apparently, took from him."

Yep, bringing this up had been a bad idea. They'd been talking about nothing in particular, before – and having a good enough time, as they did. And now, Regina looked on the brink of being absolutely shattered, again. Emma got the urge – an urge she'd been having far too often, these days – to just lean forward and kiss her. But she didn't do that, because this wasn't a date, and Regina would probably think it was odd.

Instead, Emma reached across the table and took Regina's free hand in hers – because that was a thing that people could do platonically, right?

"It's not like you did it on purpose," Emma reminded her. Marian hadn't told _anyone_ who she was – neither Regina, nor her.

"I may as well have. Even if things don't work out between the happy couple, do you honestly think he's even going to want to _look_ at the woman who sentenced his wife to death?"

"Well, you spent decades plotting to kill my mom, and we're still good," Emma told her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. It felt nice, their hands together like that. She'd noticed that back when they had the séance – which felt like forever ago, now. "If he really loves you, he'll look past that."

"That would be asking a lot," Regina said, tracing some pattern on the back of Emma's palm. "How do _you_ do it?"

"It was hard, seeing you be all full-on 'Evil Queen', and all," Emma replied, because it had been. "But, I know you're _not_, anymore. And, even when you were… you were kinda hot."

It was true. Despite how much Emma had felt herself hating the old Regina, back in the Enchanted Forest, and wondering _how_ someone could possibly go from that level of cruelty to the Regina she knew, Emma also had to admit that Regina had been pretty striking in those outfits. If not for the 'will probably kill you at the slightest provocation', it was a wonder that the Queen hadn't had a whole harem full of eager suitors.

(Or maybe she had – Emma didn't know Regina's _entire_ past…)

"You put up with me because you think I'm 'hot'?" There was a hint of a smile in Regina's bemused expression. The first she'd seen in a little while, tonight.

"There's more than _that_," Emma said, blushing a little – or, maybe it was just the wine that was making her cheeks feel so flushed, all of a sudden. "You're just… there's a lot of reasons to like you. More than there are reasons to not."

"And what would those be?" Regina prompted, lighting up with curiosity – although, Emma could tell, Regina probably knew most of those reasons herself.

"You're just fishing for compliments now, aren't you?" Emma smirked, pouring the last of the bottle into their empty (and now, half-full) glasses.

"Indulge me."

"This is a blatant abuse of your power over me," Emma said, protesting. She could easily rattle off a list of Regina's better traits. But still, she wasn't going to be _forced_ into doing it…

Beneath the table – the table that wobbled slightly whenever anything got moved on it, and that had several burn marks and a large stain on the red tablecloth, none of which had been caused by them – Emma felt the side of Regina's shoe rub against her leg. For a second, Emma wasn't sure if Regina had done it on purpose – until Regina moved her foot again, in a certain way, and Emma realized that, yes, she totally had.

"Okay, fine," Emma feigned exasperation, at her antics. "You care a lot about the people you care about. Even when you didn't have a heart, you still had more of a heart than some people who _do_ have hearts. And I'm bad at this. And you're hot. Will that do, Your Highness?"

"It'll do. And, you're going to be formal about it, I _prefer_ – " Regina started, teasing, and Emma already knew where she was going with this.

"Your _majesty_, yes, I'm _well_ aware," Emma said, laughing a little, at the memory. "You know, your prison was really easy to get out of. I hope the ones here use better locks…"

"I had the best quality of lock available at the time."

"… That was easily picked by _things I found in the cell_."

"Maybe I wanted you to get out…?" Regina suggested. It was a complete lie and they both knew it.

"Right… it couldn't have been the fact that I'm a good thief, and your dungeons had terrible security?"

"For the _time_ – " Regina started, again, and Emma cut her off.

"They weren't even guarded by _magic_."

"If you're going to attack my dungeon-keeping skills, I'm just going to leave," Regina said, although she _won't _– especially as Emma had started returning the favor with that beneath-the-table thing, and when did this actually, apparently become a date, anyway?

"No, Regina, you kept fantastic dungeons," Emma said, placating her – draining the last of her glass. "They were very terrifying."

"Good. Don't forget it." Regina also finished her wine, and then that was it – they were out of booze and faced with a pile of food that neither of them were ever going to eat. At least, if they valued their stomachs. And their taste buds.

"Do we actually have to pay for this?" Emma stared down at the lump of unidentifiable meat, the undercooked rice, and the _disgustingly_ seasoned potatoes. Really, she'd eaten better food from a gas station, during a stakeout – and _that_ said something.

Regina answered her question by giving a swift sweep of her wrist, and, a second later, they disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke – arriving in Regina's kitchen.

"Did we just dine and dash?"

"You haven't done that before?" Regina raised an eyebrow – because, yes, Emma had, a lot. At least, when she was younger.

"I just didn't think _you'd_ do it," Emma said.

"That restaurant was obviously dark magic gone wrong," Regina answered. She gave another flick of her hand, and another bottle of red wine appeared on the counter between them, as did two glasses. It was a different brand than before – something from Regina's own stash.

"We should also probably do… food," Emma suggested. She leaned into the counter and stared at the bottle in front of her – having a sudden impulse to see if she could uncork it with her magic. Which made Regina snicker, a little, but she stood patiently until Emma had successfully done it. Even though Regina had a corkscrew in hand, and could have probably done it faster _without_ magic.

"Why don't you?" Regina proposed, pouring herself a tall glass. "You seem to be on a roll…"

"Yeah, I can barely cook the _normal_ way. You want something edible, right?" That, and the fact that _culinary skills_ hadn't exactly been at the top of her list, when she'd been trying to learn things that might help them defeat Zelena. Emma wouldn't even know where to start.

"Fine," Regina agreed, and, in a blink, a platter of lasagna appeared next to the wine, along with some plates and forks. "But tomorrow, you _are _learning how to make tapas. With magic."

That was going to go terribly. Still, her efforts couldn't be any worse than the place they'd just been. Or, maybe Emma _would_ set a new record for utterly inedible food. She could do eggs, though – scrambled, and possibly other ways. If she wound up staying the night (and why not? Her baby brother made it almost impossible to get any sleep, these days…) she'd do breakfast. Maybe she'd try it magically, maybe she wouldn't.

"Thanks, by the way…" Regina began, opening a nearby drawer to retrieve the spatula that she'd somehow forgotten to summon. Once finding it, she dished out a slice. Already, it even _smelled_ better than the stuff at that restaurant.

"For what?" Emma wondered. Yep, this was definitely better. Practically amazing. And Regina had wanted _her_ to cook?

"For just… trying so hard to make sure I'm not completely miserable," Regina hesitated, then finally said. "You didn't have to. Well, you _did_. But… usually, when people do things to ruin my life, they don't exactly care how I'm coping with it."

"I didn't try _that_ hard. I did insult your dungeons," Emma quipped. Regina was just close enough to reach out and touch, so she did – letting her arms land somewhere around her waist; drawing her in. "And I'm not just 'people', Regina. I like you. I _want_ you to be happy."

"I know." Regina gave a slight nod – glancing up at her, because Emma was just the _slightest _bit taller. A height difference only noticeable when they were this close to each other's faces, really. "But thanks. It's helped, a bit."

Maybe, more than just 'a bit' – because, the next thing Emma knew, Regina had erased what tiny distance remained between them and pressed her lips against hers, and threaded a hand into her loose blonde hair as the kiss lingered and deepened and Emma felt herself being backed against a different counter. And yes, they were, possibly, officially 'dating' now, weren't they?

Because, when one makes out with that same person they keep going out to (crappy) restaurants with, those two people probably _are_ dating.

Especially if it also goes a bit further than that, too.


End file.
